


Not a Victory March

by voodoochild



Category: Firefly
Genre: Early Work, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Post-Serenity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-06
Updated: 2011-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:49:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoochild/pseuds/voodoochild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ballad of Mal and Zoe, after Serenity and after Wash. BDM spoilers, obviously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Minor Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This is an early story of mine pieced back together from four different sources. Dedicated to Vorona, who went above and beyond the call of beta-ly duty, and still manages to compliment me while she‘s at it. She was without a doubt absolutely invaluable. Much thanks and love to Mich, for the help with part three, as well as the advice that “no man can resist a woman wearing his shirt”. To Bethii, who should be used to my frantic IMs of “Waah! My story’s not cooperating!” by now, and yet still manages to pull off a fantastic beta every time. Quit saying you can't write your own fiction, you silly rabbit. And most especially to Sarah, for browbeating an ending out of me for this bad boy, and giving a wonderfully helpful and supportive beta as well. You four are the best.

I’d like to think I know Zoe better than anyone.

It’s not like Wash used to think - bless him, but her late husband was a bit of a _chunren_ when it came to me and Zoe. Cause he’d been wrong when he claimed Zoe had a “guy she’d never slept with” problem. Man was just plain pissed cause I’d gotten the pleasure first. Hell, wasn’t a day went by during the war I didn’t curl up next to her and fall asleep with the sound of her breathing in my ear. And get your minds outta the gutter - I ain’t never bedded the woman, not while she was my corporal, and especially not after she got hitched to my pilot. Would‘ve been ten kinds of wrong.

Now, best not mistake me. I’ve got eyes, and I’m just like any other male when it comes to Zoe. If I could think her beautiful while covered in blood and dirt, her hair matted down under that pink headband she spent the better part of three years wearing to shreds, I can damn sure appreciate those curves in clean cotton and leather. Get her in a clingy dress and heels, and I could probably forget my own name.

But more’n that, there’s never been a day gone by since I met the woman that I couldn’t count on her. Ever since she knocked me out on a troop transport for planting myself in her lap ‘stead of a seat. Woman’s got a nasty right cross. Wouldn’t tolerate my usual way of dealing with womenfolk with a wink and a smirk - told me I’d best keep a civil tongue in my head or she’d cut it out for me.

Never let it be said I can’t take a hint.

I’ve been learning how to take her hints for going on fifteen years. Sometimes it just takes me longer than other times. Take her marriage, for instance. Seems to me I was pretty gorram clear when I said “you ain’t marrying him, and that’s final”. Apparently “whatever you say, sir” is Zoe-speak for “how’s about you go to hell, Mal, cause I ain’t gonna listen to a word you say”. Shocked the hell out of me when I got yanked outta bed by Kaylee and told to “dress nice” for Zoe’s wedding.

Didn’t take me long to realize I wasn’t capable of functioning without her, but it took a while for me to realize what that really meant. Figured it out a year ago, in point of fact. I ain’t never seen her as broken as when she watched that spear punch through the cockpit window and her husband’s chest. Probably would’ve been just as happy to let herself go with him. Couldn’t let that happen to her, though she surely blames me for it.

I just couldn’t take losing her, too. The ‘verse had already taken Mama, Shadow, God, Serenity Valley, Book and Wash from me. It wasn’t going to get Zoe, selfish on my part though it be. Though she did try her best to prove me wrong, going up against those Reavers all by her lonesome. I’d never, in a thousand years, have picked Jayne as the one to save her. Seems he really wasn’t as dim as most of us figured he was.

Thought it’d end as the grieving for Wash ran its course. But ever since, she’s been on an extended suicide run. Taking risks she’d never have even considered taking before. Constantly pushing herself to limits any sane person would’ve quit ages ago. Going further across that line we’ve walked since the Valley than I’ve ever, in my darkest hours, gone.

I don’t know if she even realizes what she’s doing. She’s running her fingers through some serious flames. The question is - how far is she willing to go before she gets singed?

She ain’t so much like me that she can keep all that hurt bottled up. She’ll drive herself nuttier than River (our albatross knows about it, of course - told me Zoe’d already been through fire with me, why was I scared for her now?) if I don’t do something. Though I don’t much like my chances with her like this, I ain’t got much of a choice.

First thing tomorrow, I’m going to try my damnedest to politely knock some sense into her head.

~*~*~*~

Course, things never really turn out the way I plan, do they?

It was supposed to be an in-and-out job. Plain. Straightforward. Just pick up the cargo on Bernadette and deliver it to the Kishis on Greenleaf. Nothing to it. But then Jayne had to open his big mouth and let slip that we’d almost been tagged by an Alliance patrol boat on the way to Greenleaf.

And Old Man Kishi? Well, he didn’t appreciate Alliance trouble. Then there’d been gun-drawing and all manner of exchanged threats.

If we’d been dealing with Aren Kishi, it wouldn’t have been an issue. Aren would have laughed it off and given us our cut. Very sensible kind of guy. But the old man got tetchy over the littlest things, and took issue to Jayne’s favorite sawed-off, Lilly, pointed at his chest. Things went downhill after that.

Jayne’s forehead got grazed by a bullet, and he damn near called the law down on us with all his cussin’. Zoe was busy throwing a few of Kishi’s bodyguards around like rag dolls, and I had my hands full with Meng, Kishi’s pet goon. The big oaf had gotten me by the hair and practically put me through the nearest wall. Knocked me half outta my head, and I didn’t see anything after Zoe’d vaulted the railing.

Found out what happened from Jayne later. Zoe’d seen me flying through the air and not makin’ a very soft landing of it - convinced herself I’d snapped my neck. Jayne said it looked the same way to him, but Zoe just lost it, just like Jayne said she had on Miranda.

Said she’d reminded him of River, and the way she methodically took out everyone in the Maidenhead that day. But Zoe was ten times scarier than River - girl might’ve been a hand-crafted weapon and whatnot, but Zoe’d walked out of more torture than even the girl had seen. And those kind of memories don’t just go away, much as one might try to make ‘em.

She’d taken twenty or so armed men and turned ‘em into a pile of sniveling babies, then calmly picked up the gun she’d gotten knocked out of her hand, and told Jayne to bring me back to Serenity. To let her know when River was ready to take us outta the world, and walked out. He caught up with her back at the ship as she walked out of the infirmary, but she damn near took his head off when she caught him slinking along the corridor behind her.

Doesn’t need to tell me where she’s gone, though. Won’t hole up in her bunk - it’s just a room she keeps her clothes and guns in. Can’t go to her and Wash’s old room - Simon and Kaylee have taken it over, keeping their laughter and happiness locked inside it. Still can’t walk onto the bridge without her eyes glazing over. Same with the dining area. Besides, they both belong to River (and who‘d have conjured the crazy girl could not only fly but make a mean _jiao zi_ too?). The engine room is Kaylee’s domain, the shuttles are Inara’s, and the cargo bay is Jayne’s.

My bunk it is.

~*~*~*~

No one’s about as I kick the ladder open - they all know better than to try and deal with Zoe when she’s upset. Just wish one of ‘em had the sense to let her know I didn’t croak. My head still hurts like a bitch, make no mistake, but there ain’t nothing else wrong with me. Would’ve killed them to yell something down the ladder? And come on - she’s not that frightening.

“I swear to God, Jayne, I ain’t gonna tell you again. Close that ladder ma-shong, or I will carve you a new _pigu_ with my bare hands! Ain’t got no captain to hide behind now.”

I take it back. Forgot what kind of drastic measures she can allude to.

I’ve never forgotten what she sounds like when she’s been crying, though. Voice like an open wound, stripped of the calm, low tones she’s spent years convincing everyone is her signature “you’ve gone and pissed me off” voice. Nobody’s really heard her truly mad, when her voice drops to a brittle whisper. That voice could freeze a man’s blood, but it’s never so much as spooked me. This voice? Scares me worse’n Reavers.

It scares the hell out of me to know that something can rattle Zoe. My unshakeable, immutable Zoe who watched (and helped) me gut Alliance soldiers and was the reason I survived seven months in that detention center on Sihnon. Not that it ain’t reasonable of her to cry every once in a while, but when something’s reduced her to that dry sob, my world gets shook up.

Hell, everyone’s world’s been off its axis for near a year. This has been a long time coming. Time to do something about it. I climb down quietly, but slowly. Move too fast and Zoe’ll break your neck before you know what’s coming. I reach the bottom, and turn around to find out why I haven’t already got a knife to my throat or a kick to the back of the head.

 _Wo de ma_ , Zoe should never look so lost.

She’s thrown her boots across the room (was meaning to replace that section of paneling anyway) and perched on the end of my bed, working a section of blanket over and over in her hands. Her shoulders are hunched over, and if her movements were more rhythmic, she’d be rocking back and forth. Her shirt’s torn through one shoulder - she’ll be pissed about that later, the green one’s one of her favorites. Hasn’t so much as washed her face of the grime and blood from the tussle on Greenleaf, and her hair’s all falling out of the braid she keeps it in.

She hasn’t worn it down since Wash died.

“Zoe?,” I whisper softly. Last time I found her like this, a few months ago, it’d been a year to the day of her husband’s death, and I got no desire to repeat the fight we’d had. Wasn’t what you’d call one of our finer moments.

“Gorrammit, just leave me al-” She finally looks up, and I choke down my anger over the tear-tracks down her face. Can’t stay mad at her, never could. The blanket falls from nerveless fingers, and her voice cuts off in shock - Lord, she’d really thought I’d been stupid enough to die from that throw? Been through worse things than that, and she knows it. “You were - Mal, you were-”

She’s so strong, but when she falls, she falls fast. Used to be me who’d catch her before she hit bottom, and then Wash had learned when he’d married her. I’m out of practice, but there ain’t no one left, for either of us, actually. Who’m I gonna go to? Kaylee? She’s got her shiny new doctor. River? Girl’d either babble her brains out at me or act like I’m too stupid to live. Jayne’s good for getting maudlin over a shot of whiskey, but hell, I could do that with Zoe. Be much less violence involved. Better conversation too.

And that leaves me with who, Inara? Woman wouldn’t know how to react if’n I ever did start being honest with her. Too many fights, not enough respect. Yeah, it’s my fault, but I ain’t the only one. Woman’s got a hell of a tongue, and I ain’t just referring to her profession.

Zoe is all I have, all I have ever had. Can’t let her hit bottom.

~*~*~*~

“I saw you - heard the crack, it was so loud . . .”

Should’ve expected this. Can’t tell you how many times now a stray crashing or snapping noise has turned my _xiong can_ second-in-command into a scared kid. Ain’t her fault every time she hears it, she flashes back to a Reaver harpoon shattering our cockpit window and burying itself in her husband’s chest. Hell, I’ve felt my blood run cold at the sound a fair number of times myself. Don’t mean a thing - just that she’s still woman enough to feel pain and loss, and I ain’t gonna judge her for it.

“And I thought it‘d happened again, and I was too slow to stop it-”

She literally falls off the bed, and I have to drop to my knees quick to steady her. She’s shaking, that bone-deep trembling that spreads out from your chest and robs you of breath. Her hands curl into fists at my back - ouch, forgot how sharp her nails are - and pull me to her.

Zoe buries her head against my chest so she can feel my heart pounding. Was too loud in the trenches and ditches to hear yourself speak, so we learned to interpret heartbeats. Meant you weren’t dead yet. It was the feel of life, and it ain’t changed in fifteen years. Neither has Zoe. She can’t speak anymore, just breathes in harsh gasps and quiet sobs. Never was one for weeping and wailing. Not Zoe. My hand tangles in her curls, smoothing them out apologetically.

“ _Mei guanxi_ , Zoe. I ain’t gone nowhere. That overgrown gorilla knocked me out, is all.”

That gets her angry, and she tenses back up, snaps herself right back to takin’ all the blame on herself.

“Should’ve checked - you always make sure they’re dead, when they’re dead they can’t hurt you . . . thought you’d died, Mal. Wash - Wash already died without me, and then you were gone too-”

My hands slip underneath her hair and smooth across those still-military-straight shoulders and back. She’s spent so long forging herself into a soldier, both before she ever knew me, and for years under my command. Soldiers’ bodies forget how to ease themselves into any sorta calm, and Zoe and I are no different. Learned how to sleep in damn near any position, can still snap awake in a few seconds ‘less we‘re seriously exhausted, and don’t unwind after a fight for hours. But we deal, the best way we know how.

I pick up the rhythm I learned in the war - soft on the downstroke to her back, harder on the upstroke near her shoulders and neck - and brush sweat-soaked curls back with my other hand.

“Did what you had to - wouldn’t expect nothin’ less from my second and you know it. Got Jayne and me outta there, didn‘t you? Nothin‘ else matters, dong ma?”

I know she will. She always does, and never needs to ask why. Because she already knows everything I will ever need to say to her. And ever since I first set eyes on her (when I finally stopped seeing stars from that right cross of hers), I’ve never stopped needing her. Zoe Washburn - beg pardon, it’s back to bein’ Zoe Alleyne again - is a gift. Just wish the ’verse would quit being so careless with her. Ain’t like she’s ever been broken beyond repair (though I’ve thought as much a time or two), but you can see the cracks, if you know where to look.

And I’ve always known where to look.

She’s finally relaxed, her body curving in a graceful slump as she adjusts the death grip she’d had on my midsection to a thankfully looser hold. Her legs are folded up underneath her, bare feet with chipped pink polish barely peeking out from black leather.

“Mal? You shouldn’t-”

I cut her off, trying not to shake my already-pounding head too hard.

“Should has nothin’ to do with it. How many times’ve you put me back together, Zoe? Too damn many. Ain‘t a question of should.”

She takes a breath, trying to replace the calm she wears like a veil, and looks over at me with that sharp brown gaze that don’t suffer no questions.

“All the same, sir. _Xie xie ni_.”

Her murmured thanks causes me to tighten my grip slightly, and embrace her again. Our thank-you’s are usually left unsaid, except by body language. If she’d been looking at me, she’d have seen my eyes close in slight pain - ain’t no reason she should be thanking me for doing what she’s done for me too damn many times to count.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandarin translations courtesy of the Pinyinary.
> 
> Chunren - idiot, fool  
> Jiao zi - pork dumplings  
> Ma-shong - on the double  
> Pigu - asshole  
> Wo de ma - mother of God  
> Xiong can - asskicking  
> Tzao gao - dammit  
> Mei guanxi - It’s okay  
> Hundan - bastard  
> Dong ma? - understand me?  
> Xie xie ni - thank you


	2. Her Beauty and the Moonlight Overthrew You

It took some time, but I finally got Zoe back to herself again. Not that she’s anywhere near to bein’ okay - that’s gonna take more’n a good cry or two - but she’s breathing easier, and her muscles aren’t all coiled and tensed like she’s ready to spring at the slightest provocation.

I managed to maneuver her off the floor, and she’d let me take a wet cloth to her face and arms. Dirt had worked its way in pretty good, but I got it all off. Had to cut through the straps on her vest where a gunshot welded it to the armor, but she was too busy trying not to hiss at my inadvertent graze of her bruises to yell at me for ruining her clothes even more than they had been already. Didn’t say much, but the relief was in her eyes. This kind of care wasn’t something we ever spoke of - nothing you can say when someone has to care for you ‘stead of you caring for yourself.

Got her changed into one of my shirts, and yeah, she was right steamed about her green one being ripped through. Truth be told, the sight of her wearing my clothes was putting all manner of wrong thoughts in my head, but every time an image of her teasingly unbuttoning my shirt off herself came up, I couldn’t stop thinking about what she looked like huddled on my bed not two hours ago.

Because neither of those women - the teasing one nor the broken one - is my Zoe. My Zoe is the one who had to unstrap a few knives from places I didn’t even know she had - or was able to carry them in - before she curled up beside me. My Zoe is the one who’s never found it creepifying that I sleep with my gun right beside my bed, cause she does the same thing. My Zoe is the one who wakes up at the slightest noise, but can sleep straight through my mumbling, and has the good grace to only needle me in private about it.

And she knows exactly when I’m keeping myself awake thinking too much, like now.

She rolls over, a mite confused before she pushes herself upright, and makes out where I’m sitting across the room at the desk, my feet on top of it. The chair ain’t what you’d call conducive to comfort, but I’m not tired right now. Can’t sleep - not unsurprising at all - and I didn’t wanna wake Zoe. Woman hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep since she stopped taking the sedatives Simon gave her. Used to be I could manage to slip one into her coffee, but she’d cottoned onto me after a few days.

She always does, and now’s no exception.

“Gonna be stiffer than the doc‘s britches, you sit like that too long.”

I have to laugh - she’s right, but it’s been a while since she’s snarked at me. Forgot how much she makes me laugh. And while I wouldn’t mind talkin’ with her, I ain’t gonna keep her awake after this kind of day.

“Go back to sleep, Zoe. Just cause I got myself a case of insomnia don’t mean you gotta suffer right along with me.”

I should have known better, really. Once Zoe’s got a notion in her head, she don’t like to let it go. She pushes the blanket back, and gets to her feet, with nary a wobble in sight. Used to nip right up to attention from a dead sleep back in the war, so I don’t know why I’m surprised.

Oh never mind, my surprise has absolutely nothing to do with her getting up. More with the fact that I’m faced with a pair of the longest and (I have to admit) most gorgeous legs I’ve ever seen. Wait - I know she had pants on when she laid down, but you know what? I’m starting to not care so much about that little detail. More concerned with the more pressing matter of Zoe walking straight toward me, hips swaying slightly, and bare legs stretching up till my shirt - and damn, that shirt looks so much better on her than it does on me - hits them at mid-thigh.

How in the blazing hell did I manage to miss the fact that my second-in-command has amazing legs? I mean, it ain’t like the woman’s shy about showing ‘em off - she practically lives in leather pants - but it apparently ain’t the same as seein’ them bare. And after this, I don’t think I’ll be able to watch her roll up her pants to stick a knife in her boot again without swallowing my tongue. My nails are digging into my palms, but the pain isn’t doing much for my control.

Especially since I have a thing for legs. You don’t know how much I thank every deity I can conjure up that Inara never wore short skirts - I’d have had to lock myself in my bunk. But I don’t think Inara’s legs (no matter how good I imagine them to be) could hold a candle to Zoe’s.

“ . . . sir? You listening to me?”

 _Shenme_? She seriously thinks I’m capable of paying attention to her while she’s got those legs on display? She knows full well about my preoccupation - caught me ogling Kiri’s one night while on leave on Triumph at the beginning of the war, and wouldn’t let me live it down for a week.

Zoe stops a few feet in front of me, head cocked and looking at me like she ain’t never seen me before. My feet slide off the desk, and my body jolts as I land seated in the hard chair. I guiltily drag my eyes away from her lower body, and look her in the eye. She deserves it - deserves better than my letching after her.

Ain’t never been able to hide anything from her anyway.

~*~*~*~

She doesn’t speak, just regards me with pitch-black eyes, peering out from under her curls. My hands itch to tangle in her hair - it’s fallen all the way out of the braid as she slept, and it falls like water down her back. Nothin’ like Inara’s careful spirals, or Kaylee and River’s slight waves. Zoe’s hair is untamed, like the woman herself - and it’s like she can read my badly poetical mind, cause she’s stifling a smile.

“There something on your mind, Mal?”

Good God, she doesn’t really want to know the answer to that question, does she? Cause that could land me in some serious pain, and my head’s finally stopped pounding from that toss into the wall earlier. She really doesn’t need to hear my complete and truthful opinion on just how good she looks in my shirt, or how every time she’s in my bed, I can’t sleep ‘less I’m either doped up or about to pass out from exhaustion. Ain’t about to admit that to her.

“Not a thing. Go back to sleep.”

She just crosses her arms (no, bad idea, Mal - don’t go looking at just how much that adds to the cleavage that’s already on display), and asks again.

“Sure ‘bout that?”

I should’ve remembered just who I’d been tryin’ to fool. Zoe knows me too well, and she punctuates her question with a raised eyebrow. Shit, she’s onto me, and I’m going to have to do some mighty quick thinking to get myself out of this one.

“Said I was. And I do believe I mentioned before I couldn’t sleep. Ain’t no reason for you to be up and-”

“Oh, _bi zui_.”

Did she just - she did. She just told me to shut up. Well, ain’t that a-

And now she’s straddling my lap, yanking my hair back, and kissing me. Shit, I’m going straight to the special hell again, ain’t I? Cause I should most definitely not be touching Zoe at all, much less sliding my hands up her legs to pull her closer (and _wang ba dan_ , no one’s skin has a right to be that soft and smooth), or licking at the seam of her lips so I can taste her. No, definitely shouldn’t be doing that - but this is me and Zoe, and nothing in the ‘verse has ever gotten under my skin like she has.

Her mouth opens with a moan that shoots straight to my cock. She tastes like the toothpaste she hijacked from my bathroom earlier, and no, there’s no way I’ll be able to even brush my gorram teeth without getting hard. Zoe kisses like she’s drowning, all lips and tongue and teeth and dear holy God, have I mentioned that I love it?

I love the way she shivers when my hands brush a little higher every time they complete a sweep up her legs. I love the way her hair curtains around us, tickling my face and shoulders. And I especially love the way she gasps my name when my teeth graze her neck. Yeah, I think that’s gotta be my favorite discovery.

Wait - I should not be makin’ any sort of discoveries whatsoever about Zoe Alleyne. Because she’s Zoe, for God’s sake. My second-in-command. My best friend. My widowed best friend, who ain’t never gonna get over Wash’s death. And while I don’t begrudge her using sex as a tool to purge her grief (a practice I’ve engaged in myself, and I still, to this day, do not need to know what went on between her and Inara the weeks after Miranda and the funeral), I ain’t gonna let her do this to herself when there‘s better ways to go about it.

I break off the kiss, taking her face between my hands, and resting my forehead against hers.

“ _Xin gan_ , wait - if this is about you needin’ proof I ain’t left you-”

She goes shock-still with an indrawn breath, and disentangles her face from my hands. I can only pray she’s going to come to her senses, and realize that this ain’t the best thing for either of us right now. She gracefully climbs off of me, deliberately touching me as little as possible as she regains her footing. I should try and relax - this is Zoe, after all. She’ll see reason.

“ _Ni shi bai chi_!”, she hisses.

Ow! Hell with reason. Woman’s got a mean streak - and a mean slap. Cause now all my attention’s on the pounding at the base of my skull ‘stead of the pounding in my groin.

And then it’s focused on the very pissed off woman in front of me.

~*~*~*~

I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so livid. And Lord, this makes me a bad bad man, because even though she’s ranting and raving not three feet in front of me, all I can concentrate on is how beautiful she is. The way her eyes flash in black lightning as she glares at me. The play of the muscles in her legs as she paces. The drape of her hair over her shoulders, and the dip of her back visible under the blue cotton.

“ . . . and how in the blazing hell you can sit there like a _houzi de pigu_ , I’ll never know. Jesus, Mal - how many years you known me?”

Fifteen. Be sixteen next April, assuming I live past tonight.

“You ever known me to get myself involved with a man ‘less I know exactly what I’m in for? I know you, Malcolm Reynolds. Better not forget that. You seriously think I ain’t thought about the consequences of this every gorram day for fifteen years?”

She’s right - I ain’t never known her to be so addled with want that she ain’t thought through every good and bad thing that could come of a relationship. Did it with Orsen, more’n usual since it was during the war. Had no regrets when they broke it off a week before he died in the Valley. Did it with Wash, ‘fore she’d even go out on a date with him. Ended up marrying him. But it boggles the mind to think that she’s thought on me the same way. That she’s imagined everything we could (or could not) be, and made her decision.

She drags a hand through her hair, and drops to a crouch in front of me. Should’ve known better - Zoe looks you in the eye when she talks to you, and though I’ve been doing my damnedest to avoid direct eye contact, I can’t turn away from her. Not when she’s deliberately brought herself to my level. She knows me too well.

“I ain’t never asked you for nothin’ but once. Laughlin City, New Kashmir. But I’m asking now. Please, Mal.”

And suddenly, I realize it. The reason she’s decided to throw caution to the wind, and take what I’ve offered only once before. Was a cold, lonely night on New Kashmir - soldiers dying left and right, barely any food in eight days, and only Zoe Alleyne to keep me from going absolutely loony.

We’d huddled together in an old hayloft up past Laughlin City, far away as we could get from the rest of the troops and their constant sobs of hunger, and I was near the end of my rope. Don’t rightly know what I was thinking when I pulled her closer to me and started kissing her like she was going to fade away if I didn‘t. I do remember her fingertips resting on my lips, and her whispered “please, don‘t”.

 _Please, don’t do this because you need something to hold on to. Please don’t make me need to someday bury someone I love. Please don’t let me become anything more to you than your corporal. Please, Mal, don’t do this to us._

So I didn’t. I let her go, and I tried not to regret it too much. She was right, of course, and her decision got us through another year of the war, and those seven months on Sihnon as POWs. Neither of us would have survived Sihnon if we’d been lovers. I’d have murdered every single man who’d laid a hand on her in that place - and there were too many to count.

But since I had no claim to her except as her superior officer, I swallowed my outrage, and mopped up the mess they left her in. Same as she did for me.

All cause she gorram pleaded with me.

I see the same plea in her eyes tonight. This time, it’s different - _please don’t pull away this time. Please don’t tell me I don’t know what I want. Please don’t treat me like glass that’ll shatter if someone says the wrong thing. Please don’t be afraid to love me._

Well, it’s been a long damn while since I let myself believe I could love a woman again. They have an unfortunate tendency to leave me. Mama, who died believin‘ in the same God that left her son in Serenity Valley for a dead man. Katherine, who left me for some banker on Londinium, cause she didn’t want a soldier for a husband. Zoe, who went and found herself a man who wasn’t scared to love her back. Nandi, who died and never gave me the chance to discover if I loved her. And Inara, who got tired of livin’ on the edge, and went back to Highgate to train the next generation of Companions.

I’m a fool. Should’ve realized Zoe’s never left me. Not even when she married Wash. Hell, he made her whole - took the soldier she’d become and turned her back into the woman we both loved beyond anything in the ’verse. Should’ve realized I’ve never stopped loving her.

It’s a wonder she puts up with me at all, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandarin translations courtesy of the Pinyinary.
> 
> Shenme? - what?  
> Bi zui - shut up  
> Wang ba dan - son of a bitch  
> Xin gan - sweetheart  
> Ni shi bai chi - you are an idiot  
> Houzi de pigu - monkey’s asshole


	3. Every Breath We Drew

I have to admit, most of me is still completely flummoxed that Zoe’s laid it all out like this. She usually ain’t one for the heart-to-hearts. ‘Specially when I ain’t done nothin’ to deserve one. Well, there was the almost-dying, but it shouldn’t count if I ain’t dead, right?

“Zoe, I-”

She closes her eyes, takes a breath - and gets to her feet, snatching the crumpled-up pants she’d kicked out of earlier from the bed. She moves briskly, efficiently, and I stand up, reaching out to her. She ain’t havin’ none of it, and brushes past me.

“Didn’t mean to discomfort you, sir. Don’t got no right to push myself in where I ain’t wanted. Be on my way.”

Great, Mal - go and insult the only woman who’ll put up with your useless ass. God, I am just not that bright sometimes. And I’m about to lose my last chance at happiness cause I’m a _ben tian shang de yi de rou_. Can’t let that happen.

“Wait. Just - please wait.”

She stops, shoulders squared-off as she faces away from me, still wearing my shirt. Still looking like the most beautiful woman to grace the ‘verse.

Gorramit, this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Ain’t every day the most important person in your life decides she wants to take a chance on loving you. And I’m sorry, but as many things as Zoe and I have been to each other, lover ain’t ever been one of ‘em. Hard to just switch someone from second-in-command/married best friend to lover in a few minutes.

“How long you known me, Zoe? It ain’t easy for me to let a woman close enough to even ponder bedding her, let ‘lone it bein’ you. How many women you seen waltz in and out of here in eight years? Two? Three? Ain’t a one of ‘em ever stayed.”

Zoe turns around, a question on her lips, but I can’t stop talking. Mama always did say the truth’d set you free. She was right.

“I’m just plain scared. I am way outta my league here. But I ain’t so scared that I won’t risk everything in hopes of catching a little shininess. Wise woman mentioned something like that once, and she ain‘t never steered me wrong.”

She smiles, and my heartbeat goes into triple-time. What’d I ever do to deserve Zoe?

“Learned how to steer a ship when I was a kid, Mal. Ain’t so different from steerin‘ people.”

I have to grin at that - Zoe’s the one person onboard I’d never have to explain my theory on love and ships to. Cause she loves this boat just about as much as I do - wasn’t love at first sight, but then again, it never is with Zoe. Takes time to build love. To build trust, cause Zoe can’t love someone she doesn’t trust. And just like a boat, once you have her trust, you’d better set your life upon keepin’ it.

“Look, I ain’t ‘bout to muck this up any more’n I have already, but I want you, and that‘s the gospel truth of it.”

Zoe raises an eyebrow, knowing exactly how serious I am, but still wanting me to say it. Cause while we’re pretty damn good at speaking without words, they’re still there. It’s not real ‘less it’s spoken.

“That so?”

“It is.”

Almost imperceptibly, her shoulders relax and her eyes widen - but it‘s enough to tell me that she ain‘t gonna haul off and hit me again. Exhaling, I slowly make my way over to her, and slide one arm ‘round her waist, using my other hand to relieve her of the pants she was still pondering over. Those leather pants of hers are lethal, but I don’t plan on there being any sort of clothing upon her for a good long while.

“Sides, I seem to remember you asking me to take you, once upon a time. Never did get a chance to make good on that request.”

She grins, that slow, predatory smile I’ve really gotten addicted to seeing.

“Smartest thing you’ve said all night, soldier.”

~*~*~*~

That cheshire grin on her face tells me she wants this fast and hard, an outlet for pent-up energy she’s kept bottled up for too damn long. Seen it a few times, reserved for her husband, of course. Ain’t never been directed at me. I surely should take advantage of it, but hell, it took me this long, and I plan on enjoying every damn second I get with her.

Moving closer to her, I reach out, brushing a curl out of her eyes. My gaze fixates on her lips, and more than ever, I want to kiss her, because I’ve never had the pleasure. Before, she just sat on my lap and dove right in, bold as you please, and believe me, I ain’t complainin’. Zoe Alleyne is a force of nature. Can’t do nothin’ but bear out the storm.

And I’ve had quite a bit of practice at weathering her.

Her body slides against mine with ease, fitting us together in perfect unison. I’ll never need to bend to meet her eyes - cause they’re right there opposite mine, darkening in the same need that’s playing merry havoc with my nerves. I reach out, tracing her full bottom lip with my thumb, and then capture her mouth with my own. She’s a fine heat against me, and I’ve always had a bedeviling tendency to play with fire. I can feel her hips move against mine, slow and teasing-like. God, she’s gonna kill me, but at least I can die a happy man.

This time, there ain’t no hesitation in our movements. Businesslike as ever, her hands go to the buttons on my shirt (the one that’s not currently draped over her lovely frame - I’ll get to that one later) and begin tugging them apart one by one. My hands ghost over her body, mapping soft curves and trembling muscles, committing her to that place in my memory she‘s always occupied. She pushes the shirt off my shoulders, and rather than explore my bare chest with her hands as one’d expect, she tears her mouth from mine, and begins a trail down my neck.

My fingers clench into her back as she scrapes teeth over my collarbone, and I can’t seem to slow my harsh pants of breath that echo far too loudly in my bunk. Her fingers, never idle, lightly span my ribs, tracing the waistband of my pants and unsnapping my holster.

She sets my gun atop the desk, dropping the holster on top of it, and never once stops the maddening patterns her tongue is making on my skin. Hot and wet at first, then chilled by her breath and the recycled air in my cabin. Her fingers keep unlacing and tugging apart fabric, deliberately grazing hardening flesh in what I can only conjure is an attempt to make my eyes roll clean back in my head.

Her tongue makes a few teasing swipes across my left nipple, as her hand closes around my cock. The room goes blurry and hey - when did my pants come off? They’re thrown overtop my desk chair when I could’ve sworn I’d still been wearing ‘em. Zoe laughs - low and wicked - and it’s damn near enough to make a man sell his soul to hear again. My gaze locks with hers as she strokes me, my hips snapping sharply in time with her movements. I reach out blindly, capturing the collar of my shirt and pull her against me, gasping against her mouth.

 _Renci di Shangdi_ , I’ve gotta put a stop to her explorin’ right now. Been far too long since I’ve had a woman anywhere near my body, and I’m liable to explode. Between the wet heat of her mouth on mine (better to stem the moans that I can’t seem to stop myself from making) and the slick slide of her hand on me, it’s a wonder I can still move at all.

But move I do, wresting her hand off me and shoving her onto my bed. Much more comfortable, and designed for what I have in mind. I finally give in to my previous urge to forcibly remove my shirt from her body, flipping open the buttons and drawing the fabric aside so she can slip it off her shoulders. My hand trails down over her bra straps - utilitarian black, but nicely embroidered with rose-colored thread at the edges. Suits her, but I’ll admire it later. Right now, it’s sort of in the way.

Gorramit to hell, I ain’t never been talented at manipulating these things. S’beyond me how womenfolk actually put them on, never mind getting them off. A few amused glances from Zoe and quite a bit of examination on my part later, it’s sailing halfway across the room, and my attention is fixated - as it should be - on the staggeringly gorgeous sight of my second-in-command lying on my bed, wearing only a pair of high-cut black panties.

“Careful, Mal - your face’ll get stuck that way”, she teases, stretching her arms over her head luxuriantly.

You know what? I am past caring how stupid I look staring at her. Because really - this is Zoe Alleyne we’re talking about. The woman deserves to be stared-at in awe. She is so very beautiful, and no, it’s not just because she’s practically stripped bare in my bed.

And what in the _tien xiao de_ am I doing staring at her ‘stead of givin’ her a taste of her own medicine?

~*~*~*~

I capture her wrists, crossing them above her head and resting my weight on them. It’s purely a formality - I know as well as she does that if Zoe really didn’t want me doing something, she could throw me off in a few seconds flat. But she doesn’t, just stares at me in challenge - what am I gonna do about it, she’s asking. Quite a bit, actually. Mainly, my goal is to wipe that smug little grin off her face. Anything else involving screaming or invocations to the Almighty is a bonus.

There’s no need for pretense, so I dip my head right to her breast, lightly tracing the dark outline of a nipple with my tongue. She stifles a groan, and arches her back in frustration. I continue lapping at her, grinning like a fool as she curses both me and God in the same breath. She’s damn inventive as she swears she’ll kill me if I don’t stop fooling around. Nope, not gonna happen, darlin‘. You’ve had your fun. My turn to drive you outta your head.

I let go of her wrists with one hand, and trail it down to her other breast, cupping it in my hand and rolling the nipple between two fingers. I’ve quit playing games, and nip harshly at the underside of her breast, leaving a dull mark there I hope’ll be purple come morning. Zoe gasps - a high, sharp sound - and her hips shift to cradle me on top of her. Shit, I can feel her, hot and wet beneath the thin cotton, just as needy and willin’ as I am.

Somehow, my left hand’s moved from her wrist and laced with her fingers in an unbreakable grip as my right hand slides down her stomach. Smooth skin meets cotton, and I slide her panties down those long legs. She kicks out of them eagerly, arching to meet my fingers as they trace the groove of her pelvis and groaning softly as I finally slip my fingers through fine curls and between slick folds. One finger circles her clit firmly, and my head snaps up to look at her as she cries out.

Zoe Alleyne is naked, writhing, and invoking alternately my name and God’s - it’s enough to make me consider praising the Almighty my own self. Because this is a sight men could kill for. The sheets clenched in her fists as she firmly shuts her eyes. The high, soft arch of her back keeping counterpoint to her snapping hips. And that heart-stopping chant pouring from her mouth.

“Mal, oh God please, you're gonna kill me . . .”

Well, she sure as hell ain’t an innocent bystander. Sides, if all the sex she got from Wash back when they were married didn’t do her in, ain’t nothing I could do that can. Swear to Christ, those two’d make a Companion blush. But I ain’t no Companion, and I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.

She’s close - I can see it in her eyes. Her movements aren’t choppy as one might expect, and far as I know she ain’t never been a screamer, but that rock-steady gaze has gone all hazy, sweat beading down the planes of her stomach and legs. Her hands clench around mine suddenly as she lets out a shuddery sigh, and I watch her fall gracefully back against the bed. Her eyes open, and the want that’s still there just staggers me. Jesus, she’s the only woman in the ‘verse who could nearly make me come from a mere look.

There ain’t no mistakin’ that particular look, though. I may very well find myself dumped on my back, with Zoe having her way with me if I don’t do something soon. And as pleasin’ as the concept is of Zoe doing anything at all with me, I’m more in a commanding mood right now. I tilt my head, looking her straight in the eye. I gotta know if she’s onboard with this, and how far she’ll let me go. Would never want to hurt or discomfort her, so I have to ask.

Just as silently as I asked her, Zoe answers in kind. She locks gazes with me, then slides her legs up to lock around my waist, pulling me into her. And holy mother of God and all her wacky nephews, we’re skin to skin and just about as joined as you can get with another person. My brain’s just ‘bout to shut down at this realization, which is fine, cause my muscles have pretty much taken over.

But this is me and this is Zoe, and so I drag my brain up from the depths of wherever it went. Woman don’t appreciate it when her man pays her no mind. And as long as she’s spent under my command, I’ve always belonged to her ‘stead of it bein’ the other way around.

I don’t think I mind it in the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandarin translation courtesy of the Pinyinary.
> 
> Go-se - crap  
> Ben tian shang de yi de rou - useless inbred sack of meat  
> Renci di Shangdi - merciful God  
> Tien xiao de - name of heaven


	4. All I've Ever Learned

As many times as I’ve imagined the mechanics of me and Zoe knockin’ boots - and yes, that’s more than I care to reckon - it’s never gone like this. Sure, some of the particulars have been the same. Hearing her come with my name on her lips and my fingers in her quim has been a long-running one. But this moment? Never quite imagined it, and now I know nothing I could’ve conjured up with my eyes screwed shut and my fist on my cock could ever have compared.

Cause here we are, sheets and blankets shoved to the floor in favor of cool air covering us. Zoe’s nails scoring up and down my back (gasp on the upstroke, thrust then burn on the downstroke) and her legs in a vise ‘round my waist. All manner of curses and words’re babbling from my mouth as my hips match her steady pace. Didn’t know I knew all that profanity. My right hand is braced beside her head, the other twisting and pulling her left nipple in a recently discovered rhythm that causes her to bite her bottom lip near to bleeding. I lean down to kiss her abused lips, and my mouth slides over to her ear.

“Come on - we’re so close, Zoe.”

My voice is worn down to a whisper, but she tightens her legs in response. I can’t do more than lean down to kiss her, our ragged gasps mingling in shared breaths. Our movements aren’t the finely-crafted cause-and-effect of old lovers, but nor is there that reckless and all-consuming fire of new lovers. It’s both and neither, all and nothing. Responses learned and committed to memory, but always a new sound to enjoy, a new movement to categorize.

Except you can’t categorize me and Zoe. Ain’t just lovers. Ain’t simply family. Ain’t merely partners.

We could have (should have) done this so many times before, but we haven’t. We couldn’t. Not during the war, because this isn’t the desperate and greedy fucking of soldiers, frantic to forget the death that surrounds ‘em. Me and Zoe had to live through the war, and you don’t fuck your subordinate at any time while you’re ass-deep in bullets and bloodshed.

Nor could it have been while floating adrift in the depths of space, cut loose by the Alliance and its _niao se_ platitudes about relocation. Because this ain’t simply an attempt to feel something (anything). Me and Zoe could never be defined by apathy or circumstance, and I don’t need to do nothin’ but look in her eyes to know how she feels.

And not right after Wash died, either, because this isn’t a harsh and angry confrontation - no indictment from her saying that it should’ve been me. Of course it should have, but then the old saying about the good dying young wouldn’t be true if it was. And it’s always been me and Zoe’s way to yell our differences out, ’stead of ruttin’ them out.

This is not Simon and Kaylee, so heels over head they’re usin’ their shoelaces for hair ribbons and not realizing that all they really need is an outlet. This damn sure ain’t gonna end in tears and name-calling (though I wouldn’t rule out some of my more exotic invective and Zoe’s right cross), or screaming matches across the dinner table. Far too public for both our tastes. This ain’t no fairytale delusion that love is forever, and that love can overcome all flaws. Ain’t neither of us innocent enough to believe that anymore. Ain’t neither of us good enough to overcome our flaws, ‘stead of livin’ with them. Even Zoe, much as I love her, can’t help me do that.

She’s more’n a bit like me in that way.

Cause Zoe and I aren’t good, or wise, or innocent. We’ve seen the best and worst of each other, and there ain’t nothing in this ‘verse could split our loyalties.

No, if it ends, it will not be with a bang or a whimper, but with certainty. Cause that’s always something Zoe and I have been particular to. Ain’t never been a moment with her that I ain’t known where I stood. First Sergeant, then partner. Captain, then equal. Zoe may call me “sir”, but we both know it’s a necessity. Wouldn’t know what to do if she didn’t call me “sir”. Turn my world all topsy-turvy, and cause all manner of confusion, and Zoe’s never been one for that either.

Zoe simplifies things - which helps, cause I have a tendency to muddle ‘em up.

~*~*~*~

Her choppy breaths send blasts of hot air into my ear, making me shiver even harder as I thrust into her. We’ve reached that point where you’re damn near exhausted but you know there’s one more corner up ahead, so you keep going out of instinct. Zoe’s teeth lock into the skin where my shoulder meets neck, and that snaps my head back in a shout.

“ _Tamade_!”

She somehow manages to roll her eyes as she’s running her tongue over the ridged scar on my chest - the souvenir Niska’s torture chamber left me with, along with the small scar behind my right ear.

“That - ah! - was the plan.”

Woman’s on the brink of climax, and she’s still snarking me. Why am I not surprised? Of course, this does necessitate some retaliation on my part. Can’t let her think -

Shit, she keeps rolling her hips like that, I ain’t gonna last much longer. Oh, this is not at all good. I’m shocked I managed to keep up this long.

Zoe bites her lip, which ain’t nothin’ new, but she snickers in spite of herself. Did I? Yeah, I did. I said that last part out loud. A smile spreads across her face as she watches me figure it out, and pretty soon, we’re both stifling laughter. She throws her head back, and my breath goes out in a huff to see it. Wow.

I’m so busy grinning my head off at Zoe’s giggle-fit that I almost don’t notice her climax. And damned if I’m not right behind her, a smile on my face and her name on my lips amidst the laughter. Got to say, ain’t never had that happen before. Bedded women a few dozen ways, experienced more emotions than I can count, and yet that’s the first time I’ve ever come with a shout of laughter.

Wouldn’t have expected it with Zoe. We ain’t never been the most upbeat of people, and even most of our jokes are born from other means. Laughing through the tears, laughing in the dark, laughing just cause you can’t show fear - laughing cause you don’t know what else to do.

But laughing just for the sake of laughing ain’t ever been a part of us.

Neither has complaining, either. Zoe doesn’t whinge as I lay prone on top of her. Had more’n a few women who complained about the sweat or the weight. Not Zoe. Just wriggles herself out of the wet spot in the middle of the bed, and sighs shakily as she combs her fingers through my hair.

“S’almost worth you practically dying just to see this look on your face.”

“What look?”

She kisses the patch of skin at the bridge of my nose (right between the eyes, and she’s always been a sharpshooter), and smiles slightly.

“Happy. Just plain happy.”

I attempt to lean over and kiss her again, but ow. Oh, mother-of-jumped-up - ow. Ow. I am far too young to have such a stiff back, and far too old to enjoy it. It shouldn’t have been possible to get into some of those positions I just maneuvered myself into, but-

Oh.

She’s cuddled up to my side in an endearing gesture that probably has more to do with seeking warmth than anything emotional. Still, one long leg is thrown over mine, and a stream of wayward curls flutters with each deep breath she takes.

Happy? That idea does have some merit.

~*~*~*~

I’m woken up by the familiar clink-squeak of buckles on a leather vest. Zoe’s up and about, collecting her sundries from the room like she owns the place, and I suppose she does as much as anybody. Vest strapped into place, belt buckled at her waist, then holster tied to her right leg and strapped low on her hips. Quick and efficient - that’s Zoe for you.

She turns ‘round, and apparently she’s swiped one of my shirts to wear, seeing as hers was torn through yesterday. Huh. Blue’s a good color on her.

“Hey.”, she says with a smile. “Way you were snoring, no way was I gonna get any decent amount of sleep.”

“Sno- I do not snore.”

I also don’t usually sound like a pouty two-year old, but when you’ve just woken up, your voice doesn’t always do what you want it to.

“Always have, sir. Like an overfed hog. Gotten better since the war, though. Least I can drown it out now.”

Despite myself, I laugh - ‘cause she ain’t wrong. And truth be told, I’m glad she’s snarking me again. Last night, things got downright strange (well, besides the sex, which believe you me, I ain’t complainin’ about). Can’t recall a time when Zoe didn’t throw all my bluster smack in my face, or take my teasin’ without dishing it right back.

“You bite your tongue. Ain’t never complained about my sleepin’ habits before.”

She raises an eyebrow in amusement, and Lord, she's the only woman I've ever met who could make that gesture ten kinds of attractive.

“Ain’t shared a bed like this in a good long time, neither.”

And I’d be lying if the thought of Zoe and my bed didn’t make me itch to grab her ‘round the waist and throw her back into it. As if she knows what I’m thinking - well, she usually does - Zoe shakes her head and yanks the blanket off me. And _lai shi_ , is it cold in here!

“Ah, Zoe! Polite folk warn a man you’re about to freeze his nuts off.”

As usual, she ain’t taking none of my complainin’.

“Come on. Ship ain’t gonna run itself, you know.”

I groan, rolling over to grab the pillow and hurl it at her. She catches it mid-air, and throws it back, nailing me smack in the face with it.

“Get up, would you? Got us some crime to be done.”

Yeah, that we do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandarin translation courtesy of the Pinyinary.
> 
> Niao se - cheap  
> Tamade - fuck  
> Lai shi - shit


End file.
